All the time in the world
by MissaSolemnis
Summary: How she came to care for him, she didn’t know. She supposed there was fondness for a kindred spirit before, and of course Kyouya could be a trifle amusing when he wanted. Charming too. It’s not easy to woo a worldly French girl.


**All The Time In The World  
by: MissaSolemnis**

**Disclaimer: I don't own OHSHC or any of its characters. Never can, never will. But this particular plot is mine.**

**XXX Impatience XXX**

Éclair soaked into the froth of her lilac scented bubble bath with a sigh. It was quite an exhausting thing to be a CEO of an international company and at the same time be the wife of the CEO of the Ootori Medical Corporation.

Hers and Kyouya's marriage was a political one, the merging of two powerful companies, the partnership of two intelligent, cunning people who ever walked the face of the earth.

Sure she could have married Tamaki which would have been profitable as well. She could have married anyone she wanted, surely she was rich enough to do so, and held enough power in her company that no one would dare cross her if she married a pauper.

Men often had that misconception that _they_ chose their women, but not her. She developed that attitude that showed _she _was the one who considered them, not _them _considering her. No one would dare assess her business record and even think of her being the least inadequate. But she could do it to them and deem them lacking.

But by the twisted hand of fate, the dice was rolled. She chose Kyouya. And Kyouya chose her. He was about the only person she acknowledged as an equal. He understood the rules of the game as much as she did. He breathed them, respected them and also found ways around them. One couldn't help but respect a man who respected law, but not enough to bend it when needed.

Oh yes, Kyouya was a clever one. He was never one to use flowery prose or paltry jokes. He was witty, sarcastic, direct and detached. Oh, she knew that type all too well. It was the type she saw in the mirror every morning.

How she came to care for him, she didn't know. She supposed there was fondness for a kindred spirit before, and of course Kyouya could be a trifle amusing when he wanted. Charming too. It's not easy to woo a worldly French girl. Well, it wasn't wooing in particular, but a sort of mutual agreement that they would suit the best. The recognition of equals.

They had been married for two years now, and so far, they rubbed very well together, both inside and out of the bedroom. Éclair smiled and thought she liked the inside the bedroom part.

Kyouya was a considerate, meticulous and inventive lover. No one could ever accuse him of being boring in bed. They'd been doing it almost every night when they were together, and she still was getting excited at the thought of going home and bracing herself for the surprises he had in store.

One of their most memorable bedroom moments was, of course, the wedding night.

They'd gone past the foreplay, and at the moment of joining, Kyouya and Éclair froze instantaneously when a barely smothered cry erupted from Éclair's throat. Above her, Kyouya held himself so very still, as if fearing he would break her.

He looked down into her eyes with an expression of wonder, shock, amusement, gratitude and tenderness. He opened his mouth and said, "Éclair... you're a..."

That irritated the hell out of her. And of course, the irritation was a defence mechanism against his tender expression just a second ago.

She even had the temerity to hit him on the chest. "Of course, _batard._ Is it so impossible for a French girl to be a virgin?" She choked out, all the while, trying to accustom herself to his _size._

Kyouya held still as if his life depended on it. His arms were shaking with effort of holding himself above her body as beads of sweat rolled off his back, shoulders and chest. He waited for her until her gasps of pain turned into gasps of pleasure, all the while cradling her within the cage of his arms, as if she was worth protecting.

She hadn't forgotten the moment, when they finally reached fulfilment, he held her to him gently, warming her, cushioning her head on his shoulder and when he thought she was asleep, whispered, "Thank you."

Éclair smiled once more.

She heard the rustle of clothes from outside the bathroom and realized that her husband finally made it home. Smart clicks of shoes on the marble floor echoed and she opened her eyes to see that Kyouya was standing beside the tub, viewing her with hooded eyes.

"Now that's a sight for sore eyes." He murmured.

Éclair lifted her leg slightly and stretched it sinuously, knowing full well that the world beneath the bubbles was firing Kyouya's fertile imagination. Yes, she now knew that before Kyouya was a faceman or a breastman, he was first and foremost, a leg man. A fact that Éclair used to her fullest advantage. Kyouya once declared that she had the loveliest legs in the whole of Christendom.

"Why don't you come join me?" She asked and made a show of trailing her hand up her raised leg, making the bubbles dance on its smooth surface.

Kyouya's eyes, even partially hidden behind his glasses, were burning with desire. Oh yes. She knew that her husband desired no one else but her.

"I'm a bit... busy." Kyouya said and she heard the undertone of complete resignation.

_Oh no, Kyouya... You're never busy for me._ Éclair barely suppressed the evil smile that wanted to lurk into her face, but she knew Kyouya saw it, understood it, prepared himself against it.

She began lathering herself slowly and felt Kyouya's stare burn into her skin. She played with the bubbles and let the water slide around her knowing it made her skin shine like wet, silken alabaster.

"Are you sure?" She purred, and looked at him from beneath her lashes. Kyouya suspiciously held a towel in front of his pants.

He turned his back on her and made a show of stretching lithely, his shirt loosened from his waistband, showing her a glimpse of his narrow abdomen. She grinned appreciatively.

"I don't think I'll be going to bed any time soon, honey." He said.

_Oh no._ Whenever Kyouya used an endearment, he was usually in a resolved frame of mind. Éclair had to bring in the bigger guns.

Éclair suddenly stood up, so the water made as much spattering sound as possible. Kyouya involuntarily turned around, unable to help himself. She knew how she looked. She looked best wet, naked and smiling.

"I'm sorry, honey. But I don't have time for this at the moment. If you're still awake by the time I'm finished then..." His words trailed off with a promise.

"Are you sure?" She asked again and reached for her silk robe, making the act of covering herself more of a threat than an attempt at modesty.

"Yes, I'm quite sure." Kyouya was looking at the space beyond her shoulder and his voice took on a raspy quality that would have been drop-dead-sexy if he wasn't holding himself so rigidly, his muscles locked together. "If you'll excuse me." He abruptly turned and swiftly made his way out of the bathroom.

"Oh no, you don't." Éclair muttered softly, smile still in place. She wrapped the robe securely about her and stepped out of the tub, intent on catching her prey.

She wasn't looking when her foot landed on her tin tube of bath salts. It rolled from under her and as if in slow motion, her whole body followed. She pitched forward, hands too late in breaking her fall. The impact was bone jarring. Pain assaulted her from her right temple to her right ankle. From there, the pain just sort of radiated to the other parts of her body.

Amidst the sea of pain, she tried to draw for breath and found that she couldn't. Her lungs wouldn't give and fear and panic kicked in as she discovered she was gradually losing consciousness. The last thing she saw was a pair of black polished shoes, urgent hands and a voice that begged her to open her eyes. How regretful that no matter how she tried, she couldn't grant his request.

XXX

The clench of his jaw was enough to turn his teeth into powder. Kyouya stalked out of the bathroom, barely controlling the urge to spin around, take his wife into his arms and make love to her. In the bathroom.

Ah... but he wanted to. He _so _wanted to. But then, he had so many things to do aside from the paper works for tomorrow, and he didn't have any intention of going about the next day fighting a sheepish grin and fighting off the effects of sleep deprivation.

He clenched his hands as well and put them in his trouser pockets. That's when he heard the thud and slap on the marble floor. He halted and waited for a reassuring word. There was none. Gritting his teeth once more, he turned about and walked back towards the bathroom.

The sound of a moan of pain suddenly sliced through him. He was already running before he heard the pained gasps coming from inside the bathroom. What he saw made his breath leave his lungs.

Éclair was slumped on the floor, her honey hair blazing out like a halo around her head. She was motionless and her limbs were in an awkward position. Icy black fear clawed painfully at his chest.

"Éclair!" He shouted hoarsely. He was beside her instantly and whisked away the hair from her face. Her tiny gasps of air continued. He was too afraid to move her until he assessed that there were no broken bones.

"Éclair... Éclair, love, open your eyes." He whispered, caressing her cheek softly to rouse her, dimly aware that his hand was trembling.

"Joules!" He bellowed for the butler. The man materialized, his normally impassive face concerned at the sight of his fallen mistress. "Get the doctor! Fast!"

Kyouya never felt as helpless as he did now. Another moan of pain ripped from her throat and he felt as if he was stabbed with a dull spoon. "Éclair... darling. Open your eyes and look at me." He whispered desperately.

As carefully as he could, for he was too impatient to wait for the doctor's arrival, he inspected for damage. His wife's right ankle was already swelling purple. From what his position afforded him, he saw the beginnings of colourful bruises on her side.

"...K...Kyouya..." Came a whimper from the prone figure.

He never heard of her whimper like that. His strong wife. His strong, beautiful French wife...

"I'm here, darling..." He said and as gently as he could, eased her into his arms, freezing in fear when she hissed in pain.

He didn't know who was shaking more, him or her. She slumped weakly against him, her breaths coming in shallow pants and he realized she was desperately trying to master the pain.

"That's it. Breathe easy. Take your time." He murmured, smoothing her hair and wrapping his arms reassuringly about her. Her hands clutched at his shirt like a lifeline.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, after a minute when she quieted. She nodded, too exhausted and hurt to reply properly. "Will it hurt you if I carry you to our bed?" She nodded.

He pursed his lips and felt Éclair's nose bury against his collarbone, breathing him in. He just sat there, with his battered wife on his lap, too hurt to move. "Are you dizzy? Does your head ache?" He asked. She shook her head to both.

A few minutes more, "I'm going to take you to our bed now." He said and gingerly stood up.

His heart squeezed mightily when Éclair gave a small moan of pain and felt her teeth biting at his shirt in order to control her distress. Never had he carried anything as carefully as he carried his wife. She felt so... fragile in his arms that the ache in his chest intensified.

"Don't... move yet." She gasped, her hands trembling as she gripped his shirt so desperately that the material threatened to give. She was breathing through her teeth. He did as she asked, standing still, adrenaline still pumping inside him that he felt nothing of her weight in his arms. After a few long seconds, Éclair exhaled, "I'm fine now."

He wasn't so sure about that. She would be mightily sore in the morning and would have a colourful array of bruises. Kyouya put her on top of the coverlet and supported her back against the fluffed pillows. He studied Éclair's very pale face when the knock sounded.

"Dr. Nakashima is here, Kyouya-sama." Joules intoned quietly.

"I don't need a doctor, Kyouya." Came from the bed. Éclair opened her eyes, looking a bit strained, but the tone of her voice was absolute.

Well, Kyouya wasn't an Ootori for nothing.

"Regardless, he'll have to inspect you for injury." He said firmly.

At that, Éclair's face suddenly shuttered and leaned back against the pillows as if she was too tired to put up a decent argument. Kyouya clenched and unclenched his fingers.

After the doctor's ministrations, "Aside from a few bruises, there is in sign of concussion, broken bones or any other drastic things you might be thinking, Kyouya-sama." The old man said cheekily. He had been Kyouya's mentor at med school. "Madame should rest for at least three days, to ease your worries, if nothing else. After that, she'd be good as new. Well, the bruises will take time to fade, of course."

The relief that assailed him was astounding and he fought the urge to raise his eyes heavenward and give thanks. Kyouya thanked the doctor and went back to his wife's side. Éclair blearily opened her eyes and stared at him grimly.

"Do you still hurt?" He asked quietly, directly looking at her, searching for a lie.

"Yes." She said truthfully, but without any inflection of weakness.

"I'll sleep in a guest room. I might hurt you if I sleep with you on the bed." He abruptly rose and moved to exit. A slender hand suddenly caught the tail of his loosened shirt. He turned back, raising his brow.

Éclair's face was beseeching. "No, there's no need for that. I wish you to stay, Kyouya." She said.

"But I might hurt you if we sleep together." He explained.

"I don't hurt too much." A coy glint suddenly emerged from her just recently pain-filled eyes. "And besides, when you're with me, I don't hurt at all. The pain goes away, really." She smiled slyly.

Knowing he couldn't possibly win that argument in Éclair's condition, he sighed and went beneath the covers with her, mindful not to make too much movement, else he'd hurt her more.

"I thought you were busy?" She murmured, her lips moved against his neck as her hand stole to his chest and stroked patterns absentmindedly on the sculpted planes.

He touched his lips briefly to her sweet scented hair and murmured, "Not busy enough for you, m'dear. Never that."

He wrapped his arms gently around her and felt her cuddle against him and sigh contentedly.

"We have all the time in the world."


End file.
